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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27548788">Adhara Black</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erato_Muse/pseuds/Erato_Muse'>Erato_Muse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bellatrix With a Vendetta, F/M, Family Secrets, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, Marauder's Era Non-Canon Romance, Noble And Most Ancient House Of Black, Pureblood Culture, Pureblood Society, half blood prince, sirius black's daughter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:54:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,741</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27548788</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erato_Muse/pseuds/Erato_Muse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Adhara Black is the daughter of Sirius and his wife, a Muggle, who was murdered by Bellatrix during the first war. She is brought up by relatives who live in an enclave of Pureblood wizards on an archipelago of magically warded islands in the River Thames, the waters around it infested with Dark Creatures. When she and Harry meet, they each find a kindred spirit, a soul-mate, and the family they both always yearned for. Old threats resurface to threaten their future, as they begin to unravel the mysteries of the past.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Original Female Character, Sirius Black/Original Female Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to everyone in the Facebook group, Hermione's Nook, who encouraged me to post this!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry and Dumbledore stood at the shore of the river, watching the swelling golden light grow closer and brighter. Eventually, the hooded man holding the lantern pulled up to the shore in his boat. Harry could not discern the man’s face beneath his hood. He realized that he was peering when Dumbledore, who sat in the boat and rather primly smoothed out his robes, and gave Harry a mild warning look. Harry redirected his attention to the toes of his scuffed trainers, which had been Dudley’s when they were six years old. The boat lurched and bobbed on the water, sailing over the dark water pointed towards a bend around the trees. Harry was reminded of the journey across the lake to Hogwarts the first time when he was 11…except, on that occasion the castle was the crowning jewel of the horizon, the constant towards which they were  headed.</p><p>He didn’t know where they were going. He’d hardly believed that Dumbledore would truly come to take him away from Privet Drive. </p><p>“You are permitted to ask questions, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Restraint is painfully cumbersome, at your age. Curiosity one has in abundance at 16, to make up for other graces.”</p><p>Harry smiled. Dumbledore, he thought was doing his best to make Harry feel more comfortable, quite thoughtful considering that he was sitting at the feet of a man who, apparent facelessness aside, resembled a Dementor, peeling his paddle through the water, moving the boat forward up the Thames River. Harry had no memories or associations of the river; even if the Dursleys were the sort for hikes or rowing, Harry certainly would not have been invited along on any such excursion. When he had briefly lived at 12, Grimmauld Place, the river that wound its way up to London and cleaved the city into banks was nowhere in sight, the Victorian square and house tucked into a forgotten part of a city whose wealthy centers had moved to other, more modern neighborhoods. However, as unfamiliar as the Thames was to Harry, as the hooded boatman continued to paddle upriver, he was sure that the waterway’s environs were transforming with the help of magic. Harry hardly believed that he was on a river at all as the open water widened. </p><p>Harry realized that he never had taken Dumbledore up on the permission to ask where they were going.</p><p>“Um…Sir, where are we going?” Harry asked.</p><p>“Better late than never, as they say, Harry. Your trust in me, leading you this far into the dark, destination unknown, humbles me,” Dumbledore said earnestly. “We are headed to a cluster of islands in the Thames called the Aits, one in particular called Achernar.”</p><p>Harry’s first thought was of Azkaban, the wizard prison, which was also on a small island. What could lie on this island, Achernar?</p><p>“We are going to resolve a small issue that has arisen with Sirius’s will, which has, for the meantime, forced us to vacate 12 Grimmauld Place,” Dumbledore said. </p><p>At the mention of his godfather’s name, Harry felt  sharp cold grip, like a skeletal hand, twist his heart. He didn’t know what to say. He missed knowing that Sirius was out there, somewhere in the world, ready to help him and reassure him whenever Harry wrote to him with a question or a concern. He wished he had been more open about his visions, and fears that Voldemort had possessed him, that he had relied on Sirius more….it haunted him that his godfather had died thinking that Harry didn’t need him, that the Order of the Phoenix had no use for him, convinced he was useless after Snape’s and Kreacher’s taunting.</p><p>Harry buried his feelings. He was used to the Dursleys, who neither knew nor cared very much about his life.<br/>
“I didn’t know Sirius had a will,” Harry said. </p><p>The little islands Dumbledore had mentioned were in sight. The trees of the Aits drew night birds who shed their moonstruck shadows upon the lapping water. Harry had never thought of a river having waves, but he could hear the moans of the water as it rolled and crested under the sway of invisible forces, as it hit rocks and sand on the small shores of the Aits. </p><p>“You were his designated heir, of course,” Dumbledore said.</p><p>Harry felt as if they were both skirting around the subject of Sirius, while talking about him. </p><p>Harry remembered the way he trashed Dumbledore’s office in the first wave of his grief, filled with rage and so much pain it was like a monster was clawing out of his skin. He didn’t logically think Dumbledore held this against him, but he was still quite embarrassed to have done it. As for the Headmaster, did he regret locking his former student away in the house he hated, trapped alone with his traumatic childhood memories, in an attempt to keep him safe?</p><p>As for the news, Harry didn’t know how to react. For the second time in his life, he had been left an inheritance, cold metal in a vault, when he would have just rather had the benefactor themselves back, warm and alive, in his life. Money was no substitute for family.</p><p>“However, there is one other claimant, and until the matter is settled, 12 Grimmauld Place’s charms are in something of a limbo, needing its master’s permission to hide itself once more,” Dumbledore said.<br/>
Harry nodded. “All right. What do you need me to do?”<br/>
“Oh, you shouldn’t have to do very much. I just thought your presence would convince the wizard we are on our way to visit that you are pursuing the claim staked by Sirius’s will of your own accord,” Dumbledore said.</p><p>“This person…doesn’t believe that?” Harry asked.</p><p>“There is, unfortunately, a perception in our world that you are my pawn, to be indelicate. That I am something of a Svengali, manipulating you into actions or positions advantageous to myself and my schemes,” Dumbledore said, with a hint of bemusement, as if this idea was a whimsical one.</p><p>“That’s not true!” Harry said heatedly. </p><p>“Thank you, Harry,” Dumbledore said earnestly.</p><p> The boatman steered them towards one island in particular, that must be Achernar. Harry could see the roof of a large house peeking from a crowd of trees on the island.</p><p>“Almost there,” Harry said idly, wondering who this wizard was, who seemed to be challenging Harry’s claim upon the Black fortune.</p><p> He didn’t care about the money, but the Order needed 12 Grimmauld Place for its headquarters, and it needed to be secured as soon as possible. Sirius’s family’s were generally despicable, but for him and Tonks, so this person was probably not pleasant…but, if Dumbledore was welcome in their home, they couldn’t be completely lost to perdition. As Sirius had told him, the world wasn’t split between good people and Death Eaters.</p><p>“Help me!!” came a thin, unsteady cry, piercing the curling mists hovering on the surface of the water, between the boat and the island’s shore.<br/>
Harry grabbed his wand, and tensed to spring from the boat.</p><p>“Did you hear that?” Harry asked.</p><p>Dumbledore put his hand on Harry’s arm.</p><p>“Don’t react,” he said.</p><p>Harry was surprised, and, in fact, slightly appalled at the headmaster. Could he truly listen to cries of help, and do nothing? Had Sirius appealed to Dumbledore to hide anywhere else than Number 12, and had he maintained the look on his face Harry could see now, one of placid detachment?<br/>
“Please!!! Help!!” the cry came again. It sounded female, old, and frail.</p><p>Harry heard the silken, swishing sound of a snake moving in water, and looked down. </p><p>“Lumos,” he cast. His wand lit up at the tip, and he shone it into the waters, where he saw the silver and sinuous bodies of what appeared to be sea serpents, flicking just beneath the surface of the waters. Whoever was calling for help was alone in monster infested waters.</p><p>“Knuckers,” said the boatman, who had a voice like sandpaper. “The river’s full of things like them; and things like me.”</p><p>“Mr. Shellycoat is a Lantern Man. But, an admirably benign one. He knows these waters, Harry; calm down,” Dumbledore said, but his placating tone grated, annoying Harry, and was drowned out by more cries of distress. </p><p>Harry dove into the icy water, and swam through the mist, which broke in the wake of his strokes. He tried his best to hold his wand before him, and felt a jolt of victory in his belly as he caught sight of the person he was trying to help, an old woman with wet, straggly gray hair, paddling frantically to try and stay afloat in the water.<br/>
“I’m coming!” Harry shouted to her.<br/>
“Oh, thank you, thank you!” she cried.<br/>
But, as Harry swam within reach of the elderly woman, he felt something grab his waist.<br/>
“I’m so glad you came,” the woman said, redolent with relief, adding, “I was so hungry.”</p><p>Her skin became green tinged and coarse gray, her hair became locks of algae, and the water troubled and roared around her as she stood on tall green legs to which clung mottled, gray-green, gangrenous looking flesh. She held Harry tight with inhumanly long arms, and the knuckers swam in graceful, serpentine arcs around her ankles. If she did not eat him, they were sure to. Harry hissed frantically in Parseltongue, saying, “Go away,” and “Get back”, but they didn’t seem to listen, and certainly didn’t obey.<br/>
Harry realized that Dumbledore had been trying to warn him not to fall for the traps of the river, and he hadn’t listened. He hadn’t trusted him.<br/>
“Jenny Greenteeth! Get your rotten hands off the boy!” cried a ferocious voice accompanied by a furious splash.<br/>
Whoever had entered the fray tackled the water hag, Jenny Greenteeth, apparently, and at the same time the knuckers swam away from the light and sound of spells surely being aimed by Dumbledore. Harry gripped his wand as he hit the water, and swam for Achernar. He started to feel the elation of escape when knuckers wrapped tightly around his ankles, then his arms, then his waist, his throat, pulling him down into the cold. Harry struggled just to breathe, and tried to keep a grip on his wand…but, he couldn’t speak to cast a spell.<br/>
Darkness started to seep in, and Harry lost consciousness.<br/>
When Harry awoke, he smelled mud, and became aware that his feet were not on the ground, but he was in motion. He was being carried, in strong, muscular arms. He looked up, into the ruddy, black-bearded face of a forty-ish man with deep set blue eyes.<br/>
“What were you thinking? Have you never heard of Jenny Greenteeth?” asked the man.<br/>
“No,” Harry said. “I thought she needed help.”<br/>
“That’s her trick-she pretends to be a helpless old dear, all the better to lure children into the deep water, where they can’t escape her,” said the man carrying him. He was as strong as Hagrid, but not quite as big, though he had muscles any Hollywood action hero would envy.<br/>
“I’m not a child; where’s Dumbledore?” Harry asked.<br/>
“Looking for you. I’m Samson,” the man said.<br/>
“That suits, you,” Harry said, before he could stop himself, then added, “You’re…quite strong.”<br/>
Samson laughed. “I’m only half lubberkin. Purebloods are stronger.”<br/>
“What’s a lubberkin?” Harry asked.<br/>
“A sorta hobgoblin. One of the creatures of this river,” Samson said. “Never been out this way before, have ya?”<br/>
“No,” Harry said. “What happened to all of those serpents, the knuckers?”<br/>
“Punched ‘em,” Samson said unfussily, and Harry felt appreciative.<br/>
Dumbledore was waiting for them up the shore. Achernar seemed to be one of the more spacious Aits of the Thames…or, perhaps it had been magically enlarged by the wizard who lived here, the one who was contesting Sirius’s will.<br/>
Mr. Shellycoat rowed his boat away, back up the river, perhaps to ferry another person across. Dumbledore waved at Shellycoat, then turned his attention to Harry, whom Samson set on his wet, unsteady feet. Harry’s jeans and underpants were soaking, as were his socks, which made a squelching noise against the soles of his trainers, and he was aware that he had a ruined Pop Tart in his pocket, too.<br/>
He looked at Dumbledore’s piercing, arresting blue eyes, and saw a trace of disappointment and contrition. They were both keenly aware that Harry had not trusted Dumbledore enough to remain in the boat.<br/>
“You must be cold, Harry,” he said gently, and waved his wand. Harry instantly felt dry, and even insulated from the moist, chilly air.<br/>
“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing to the path ahead, that led to the wizard’s house.<br/>
Harry nodded. He wanted to get things over with, so that the Order could have Number 12, again. He looked up, and above the trees the windows of the wizard’s house stared like cataract obscured eyes, moonlight shining on the glass like water. Only one light was on, and Harry thought he could just make out a girl with long dark hair moving about…but he wasn’t sure if he could trust his eyes or ears in the Aits.<br/>
Still, he and Dumbledore walked behind Samson as he led the way forward.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry meets Adhara, and the Gray family, extended relatives of the House of Black</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adhara Black gazed out of the window of her room at her Uncle Alpheus’s house, River’s End. The three-quarters’ full moon’s light tipped the treetops silver, but she could see no more of the island than the crowded forest. But, Adhara knew every inch of Achernar, and could recall any tract of the forest and the river around the island from memory: she knew the forbidden misty tracts where hungry Hobs like Nell Powler and Jenny Greenteeth lurked, pretending to be harmless old ladies lost in the mire, but lurking to sate their bottomless hunger for children, and where the water asphodels floated upon the water like lost souls, their petals as silken and translucent as the skin of a bubble, where the firefly pixies flitted in darting flames, where the Silkies, Loreleis, and Selkies, and Kelpies swam. Some were creatures to avoid, but she was used to even the hazards and felt used to them. They certainly seemed used to her, and her chief pleasure was to row her small boat up and down the hidden veins of the river, places where Muggles could not go.<br/>
She glanced away from her window, down to her desk, to pages she had peeled out of the Daily Prophet. She read, not for the first time that summer,<br/>
“…Black,  founding and core member of the anti-Voldemort resistance organization the Order of the Phoenix, stood accused of betrayal and sabotage in the matter of the deaths of comrades James and Lily Potter, both 22. Evidence presented by Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt clears Black of these assertions as well as the crime he was convicted for, the deaths of 13 Muggles, and implicates alleged Death Eater Peter Pettigrew. Posthumously awarded the Order of Merlin for special service to Wizarding Britain, Black is survived by one natural daughter, and godson Harry Potter…”<br/>
Natural daughter, she thought. That was her, and she knew what it meant: that in the eyes of the Wizarding World, she was illegitimate, her name not worth mentioning in connection to such personages as the Chosen One, Harry Potter, and her father, who had gone from fugitive and felon to a posthumous Order of Merlin. She tried to rally herself with the thought that her father didn’t see her as a nonentity. He had reached out to her, in letters, explained that he was innocent of his infamous crimes, and told her in veiled terms where he was hiding, about the war effort, and about her godbrother, Harry Potter. She’d re-read his letters over and over again, each time trying to conjure his voice, which she had never heard in person. But she had such a strong feeling of him, it was as if deep in her earliest memories she did know it, and had never forgotten. She sat upon her bed, and read the favorite letter, again,<br/>
“Dearest Adhara,<br/>
Happy Christmas! How I wish you were here, opening your gifts beside Harry, and the other children: his friends, Ronald Weasley and a girl called Hermione, and the other Weasley children. The house is almost cheerful, with so many people here, but nothing much can be done about Kreacher, I’m afraid. One day, we will have Christmas, my girl, you and I...”<br/>
My girl…tears bloomed at Adhara’s eyes. She wasn’t her father’s girl, anymore. She was no one’s…<br/>
A knock came at her door.<br/>
“Adhara! Adhara, dear, come downstairs, now! Your Uncle asks for you, my girl, its important!”<br/>
She opened the door, to her Great-Aunt Asterodia. She was a stout, gray woman in a white flannel nightgown, with a kindly face. Adhara’s other guardians were her Uncle Alpheus, Uncle Cetus, and Great Aunt Phoenissa, cousins of her grandmother, Walburga.<br/>
“Adhara! Have you been crying?” Aunt Asterodia exclaimed.<br/>
“Oh, no, I left my window open, the fumes from the marsh stung my eyes,” she quickly lied. Being comforted by Aunt Asterodia was quite nice, the first few minutes…she gave Adhara macaroons and they sang encouraging Celestina Warbeck songs about surviving heartbreak from her vinyl record collection, but as the evening wore on Asterodia mixed up her own heartbreaks and the person she was comforting, and sobbed while trying to smile through it, saying things like, “Oh you poor dear, you’ve been through it haven’t you? We’ve been through it! Oh, but we’ll be all right…we must be! We shall be!” crushingly hugging them to her ample bosom, while the record player spun.<br/>
It was better not to wind her up in the first place.<br/>
“You silly little puffskein! You’ll let in noxious vapors, that way!” Asterodia said cheerfully, and shut the window. “downstairs, now, we have visitors! And not just any visitors: Albus Dumbledore, and Harry Potter!”<br/>
“What? Oh, no, that can’t be right,” Adhara said.<br/>
“Whyever can’t it be? Now, you listen here, Adhara Joan Black: just because Phoenissa and I are twins does not mean we share everything-I certainly do not share her declining faculties! She is the one with the spotty memory. I, on the other hand, remember everything in shocking detail, and I would recognize Albus Dumbledore, at any rate: he saved Britain from Grindelwald. Why he doesn’t finish off that upstart Lord Moldyspores, I can’t fathom! Wants to make it as dramatic as possible, I suppose,” Asterodia said.<br/>
Adhara giggled. She wished she was so old that everything felt like a repeat performance, to be so hard to impress that even Lord Voldemort was not imposing.<br/>
“Yes, Aunt,” Adhara said.<br/>
Asterodia gave her a soft look, and squeezed her hand. “Your poor father…he was an odd boy, there was no doubt about it, but he was a good boy.”<br/>
“Thank you, Aunt,” Adhara said.<br/>
She and Asterodia headed downstairs.<br/>
“What are you doing up at this hour, Karriewhitchit?” Samson boomed.<br/>
Adhara rushed downstairs, and Samson scooped her up in his arms. She laughed, and was smiling brightly as he set her down. Samson was half Lubberkin, large and very strong hobgoblins, and half wizard, and served as a sort of caretaker at River’s End, and around Achernar. His wife, Nerine, was a Silkie, a water fairy who could also live on land, and only wore silk clothes. Adhara loved to hike out to Samson’s and Nerine’s house, a little cottage overlooking the river.<br/>
“I waited up, to drink milk with you!” Adhara said.<br/>
Lubberkins did not take money as payment for the work they did, but instead accepted glasses of milk, and a place by the fire of the family they served. Samson was always welcome at the fire at River’s End.<br/>
Samson smiled fondly. He was, for all appearances, a handsome man with long black hair, a ruddy face, big black beard, and kind, deep set blue eyes.<br/>
“Not tonight, Karriewhitchit. I found a pair of wizards in the water, they need a bit of drying out,” Samson said, and gestured to the man and boy by the fire: the latter was exactly the image the words ‘Wizard’ conjured, an ancient but formidable looking man in a silver caftan, with a silver pointed hat, white beard, and piercing blue eyes behind half-moon glasses. Albus Dumbledore, the legendary scholar, who, as Asterodia pointed out, had defeated the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in a duel.<br/>
Beside him was a skinny boy, with messy black hair, wearing Muggle clothes, and his most appealing feature, emerald green eyes, shining from behind thin, cheap looking eyeglasses. Adhara’s  heart leapt like a fish drowning on air: this was Harry, her father’s godson! How her father had longed for them to meet, and now he was here, in the dark, firelit parlor at River’s End. He looked uncomfortable and out of place, being regarded by her Uncle Alpheus, Great Aunt Phoenissa and her husband, Uncle Cetus, as if they were going to sentence him to a crime: it was how they looked at all visitors. Their habitual grimness did nothing to dampen the rollicking enthusiasm Adhara felt: Harry was her last link to her father, and the wishes he had expressed in his letter. Without thinking twice, she hugged him joyfully.</p><p> </p><p>Harry opened his arms, and embraced the tall, pretty, black haired girl who had rushed towards him. He did not often hug people, at all, let alone girls, but the moment could not be refused. Her hair smelled like jasmine or gardenia, some musky flower prized by long-dead kings in opulent fallen empires, and her soft chest pressed against his. Where her hands met his upper back, Harry felt as if he had been burned, branded, shocked. When she pulled away, she was smiling gladly, and her gray eyes danced with firelight like opals, pale, shining, cradling fire.<br/>
“Niece! That is quite enough!” scolded one of the gray haired old men in dark and subtly immaculate wizard’s robes.<br/>
“I’m sorry, Uncle! But, Father always said in his letters that he wanted Harry and I to meet!” the black haired girl protested.<br/>
“Your father’s wishes are precisely what has caused this fine mess!” the man said sternly.<br/>
The girl withdrew, and Harry felt his senses chasing the smell of smoky-sweet white flowers that her hair stole from him as she withdrew her soft body from his arms. She stood outside the vantage of the gold firelight, in the shadows behind a stern-looking dark haired woman in a high-collared dark dress. Still, the light found her white nightgown, and her hair, and they shone with pale fire.<br/>
“Harry, allow me to introduce our host this fine evening: Alpheus Gray, master of River’s End,” Dumbledore said graciously. “Alpheus, this is my student, Harry Potter.”<br/>
“Mr. Potter-welcome to my island. I understand my relation, Sirius Black, named you as heir to the Black family home, 12 Grimmauld Place,” Alpheus said.<br/>
“Yes, sir,” Harry managed to get out, but the other wizard was just as imposing as Dumbledore: his shoulder length hair was gray and leonine, his gray eyes were piercing, and he had the air of one who enjoyed their solitude very much, and reacted strongly and decisively to those who disturbed it.<br/>
“That cannot stand,” Alpheus Gray said at once, and curtly. “you are of only tangential descent from the House of Black. Your claim to anything of our lineage is nothing to Adhara’s-she is Sirius’s natural daughter.”<br/>
“The Black fortune is distributed quite fairly between Adhara and Harry…quite generously, I would say, for convention regarding natural children,” Dumbledore said delicately.<br/>
“The house. The house is Adhara’s. Anything else is madness, a caprice of my nephew’s. A talented young man, but he had no guiding hand to help him become the wizard he would have been,” Alpheus proclaimed, and it was clear that his word was the final one on Achernar.<br/>
Harry wanted the Order to have Number 12, of course, but in that moment, all Harry cared about was Adhara’s feelings. Was she upset by being discussed in this way? Did she agree with Alpheus? Was she afraid of him? Was she happy here? She was Sirius’s daughter, and that fact spun around Harry’s head like moons in orbit.<br/>
“Sirius was a hero! He died to save me and all my friends from Death Eaters! He was a great wizard!” Harry said heatedly, and he could keenly feel Adhara’s eyes on him.<br/>
Alpheus glanced at Dumbledore scornfully, communicating just how unimpressed he was with the behavior of Dumbledore’s students.<br/>
“Alpheus…my old friend. I respect, more than you know, your persistence in favor of Adhara’s claim. But, I will assert that Sirius bequeathed the house to Harry for a purpose, a most dire and pressing purpose. He trusted that Harry would continue to volunteer the use of the house for the purpose of-” Dumbledore said, but to Harry’s astonishment, Alpheus cut him off with an airy wave of his hand.<br/>
“Yes, yes. I know all about it. And you know that the Aits take no part,” Alpheus said.<br/>
“But, Uncle! If Voldemort takes possession of our world, the Aits will be threatened, too!” Adhara said. A plump, kindly gray haired woman in a nightgown lovingly but chastisingly patted her hand and held a finger up to her mouth and said,<br/>
“Shh.”<br/>
Harry respected Adhara immensely for speaking up.<br/>
“She’s right. The islands won’t be safe. He wants the world,” Harry said.<br/>
“Our wards have held through worse,” Alpheus said obstinately.<br/>
“Uncle!” Adhara appealed.<br/>
“Quiet, girl!” said the woman in the dark dress.<br/>
“All right, Karriewhitchit, I think I’ve changed my mind about that milk! What about a few shortbread biscuits beside them? If Miss Asterodia did any baking today?” Samson said.<br/>
“Why, of course! I did wonder the smell didn’t carry! I expected to see you burst through the kitchen door the very second they came out of the oven!” Asterodia said cheerfully.<br/>
“Well, it was Nerine’s washing day-I had to adjust some poles for her drying line,” Samson said.<br/>
“Ooh, did anything shrink?” Adhara said eagerly.<br/>
“She’ll be sure to let you know, if it’ll fit you,” Samson said, with a wink.<br/>
Harry got the feeling that Asterodia and Samson were trying to smooth things over with their kindness, but there were embers against the opalescence of Adhara’s eyes. Though she was trying to follow Samson’s and Asterodia’s example and keep the peace, many more things to say about Voldemort and the importance of stopping him were whirring in her mind. She found Harry’s gaze, and he understood, instantly.<br/>
“Asterodia, pay the Lubberkin,” the dark-haired woman ordered. “Adhara, go with them.”<br/>
She took one more look at Harry, and he dared to say, “It was nice to meet you, Adhara.”<br/>
“I…I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Harry. It was what Father wanted. He said so in his letters,” she said, and it seemed to take much effort and daring on her part.<br/>
“Enough!” the dark-haired woman said sharply, and pointed to the kitchen. Asterodia and Samson beckoned Adhara, and she followed them into the dark corridors that led into the interior of the house.<br/>
“Sir, I don’t mean any disrespect,” Harry said, emboldened by Adhara’s defiance and courage, “but, Dumbledore is right: Sirius left me Grimmauld Place not just because he knew that all I wanted was to have a home, to live with him like he promised, but also…for the Order of the Phoenix. They need a base, and they need support, because they need to win this war. If they don’t, our world will be lost to Voldemort. We’re all in this together, sir. I don’t want to take anything from Adhara…I want her to have everything she deserves. I never knew Sirius had a daughter…I wish he’d told me…”<br/>
“It was a sensitive matter,” said a small, philosophical looking man with long, flowing silver hair. “Mr. Potter, I’m charmed to make your acquaintance: you speak with power, just like your grandfather, Fleamont.”<br/>
“No blathering reminiscences, Cetus,” said the woman who had ordered Adhara away.<br/>
Harry felt a burning dislike of her that he knew was unwarranted for just a few minutes acquaintance…but her imperious tone, her aristocratic bearing, cold demeanor, and formidable features all reminded him forcefully of Bellatrix LeStrange.<br/>
“Phoenissa, my dear…these are dire times. We, in the Aits, are perhaps too hasty in proclaiming that we take no part. If we take no part in the effort to defend our liberty, how, then, can we take part of it? Our freedom is not a separate species of freedom from our fellows. I do see the necessity of the Order of the Phoenix maintaining the house of our family for its purposes. But, you must speak to Adhara and secure her agreement. I think you are up to that task, Mr. Potter,” Cetus said.<br/>
“She is just a girl!” Phoenissa said.<br/>
“Not to her father. To Sirius, she was the sun and all lesser stars,” Cetus said.<br/>
This seemed to move even Alpheus, and to stop Phoenissa in her tracks.<br/>
With a begrudging sigh, Phoenissa said, “The Knuckers feed at night. And they feed vigorously. You will stay at River’s End, depart in the morning.”<br/>
“You are very kind, Phoenissa,” Dumbledore said, with a grateful nod.<br/>
“I shall show you to your chambers,” Phoenissa said stiffly, and took a candelabra off a table, shining the light ahead of her as she led Harry and Dumbledore through the darkness.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Adhara thinks about Harry...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What’s the matter, Karriewhitchit?” Samson asked.<br/>She sat at the kitchen table with Samson and Asterodia. Samson drank his milk heartily, and then regaled the two witches with stories of his days on the Dark Creature Wrestling circuit, where he grappled with ogres, trolls, half-giants, and pureblood Lubberkins-including his own father, a legendary wrestler named Goliath. He usually concluded these reminiscences with the story of his last match, against his constant rival, a shapeshifting river hobgoblin named Proteus-because in this match, he won a championship and a large amount of prize money. <br/>“No reason to keep on after that-I finally had enough money to marry Nerine,” he would always sigh, with as much satisfaction as after a mug of hot milk. <br/>Usually Adhara never got tired of a story no matter how many times she had heard it, and she loved Samson and Nerine’s love story as much as she loved visiting their cottage when Nerine was washing her silk dresses, working in her garden, or baking a pudding-Samson loved a milky pudding. But, tonight, her mind was on her father, Dumbledore, Harry Potter, and the world beyond the Aits. Life went on in the river as usual, and Adhara relished the sameness of rowing her boat up and down between islands, gathering waterflowers for Asterodia’s and Nerine’s supper tables, climbing trees and swimming, watching birds and butterflies…but, the menace of Voldemort felt closer than ever.<br/>“Is it your father, dear? Would you like to talk about him?” Asterodia said kindly.<br/>Adhara smiled. “I never knew him, but I love him and miss him so much. Sometimes…when I am sitting along in a meadow, or in my room, listening to my music box or reading, when I am peaceful and still, I just want to cry. Out of nowhere. Is that strange?”<br/>“Not at all. When we rest, what is in our hearts rises up, like something being brought out of the river. Perhaps our hearts are rivers,” Asterodia said.<br/>She squeezed Adhara’s hand kindly. Samson looked at her lovingly, and said,<br/>“Don’t ever think its not normal to feel. We all feel things. We just don’t always have anyone to feel them with, or anywhere to be still and feel, ourselves,” Samson said. <br/>“Thank you, both of you,” Adhara said. <br/>“What do you make of your godbrother?” Asterodia asked. <br/>“He’s…quite close to Dumbledore,” Adhara said carefully.<br/>“Proper wizard isn’t he, Dumbledore? The hat and all, the whole kit,” Samson marveled.<br/>“If Dumbledore needs the house, Father’s house, to defeat Voldemort, then I want Harry to have it,” Adhara said. “its what Father would have wanted. He gave his life, fighting Death Eaters.”<br/>“He was a warrior,” Samson said reverently.<br/>Asterodia nodded. “It only a shame that the fools at the Ministry didn’t realize whose side he was on before then!” she said vehemently. Samson patted her hand soothingly.<br/>“Should I go tell him? That I want him to have the house?” Adhara said. <br/>“Dumbledore? Disturb his rest? He’d turn you to dust before he had even yawned himself awake!” Asterodia said.<br/>“No, Harry Potter! I want him to know…” Adhara said, but she couldn’t bring herself to finish. She didn’t just want him to know that the Order of the Phoenix could have 12 Grimmauld Place. She wanted him to know that she saw the pain in his eyes, and it was the same in hers’ the same stone in her heart she felt form when she sat in meadows and listened to the call of birds, her hands burning and quivering to write a letter to her father and describe the arc of a diving heron or graceful landing of a crane, but there was no one to write to, and the world felt so confusing…she wanted him to know that she felt the chill in the air and the miasma of threat, and she knew that it was Voldemort’s rising power, and that it had to be stopped. She had seen a fire in his eyes, and she simply wanted him to know that she saw it.<br/>“You will most certainly not go running to a young man’s boudoir to tell him anything! Adhara Joan Black, what has gotten into you? Finish your milk and biscuits!” Asterodia ordered.<br/>“If you don’t want ‘em, I’ll take ‘em, Karriewhitchit,” Samson said.<br/>Adhara was determined that she and Harry would talk in the morning…</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Adhara tells Harry her backstory</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry thrashed awake, feeling a tight, gripping pain in his chest. He struggled to breathe, feeling the grip of the river serpents. Woke up tangled up not in the cursive bodies of beasts, but the sheets and covers of his bed in a guest room at River’s End. Harry gasped for breath, and felt for his eyeglasses on the nightstand. He got up, catching his breath, and when he opened the curtains at the window, he saw that the sky was lit by dawn to a pale bluish gray, the trees of the forest were perfectly black silhouettes. The sun had not yet risen above them, but was shining, hidden from the horizon.<br/>The house overlooked a bluff that led to the wide blue river, which reflected the pale aquamarine dawn. Harry heard splashes and cries which sounded like song. He recognized the ethereal song of merpeople. Harry shook it off-if he listened closer, their song could enthrall him and he’d find himself skinnydipping amongst sirens. Harry decided to poke around River’s End. He would have expected a house belonging to a branch of the Black family, as the Grays surely were, to be like Number 12, chalk full of dark magic artifacts. While River’s End did have a certain sinister grandeur, it was also rather sparse and minimalistic, as if those who owned and resided in it were philosophically opposed to ostentatiousness. <br/>He carefully walked downstairs, and heard activity in the kitchen. Asterodia, to whom household tasks seemed to fall, was placing food in a hamper: large loaves of bread, wheels of cheese, a whole melon, and jugs of milk. <br/>“Harry!” <br/>Harry looked at the doorway, and saw that it was Adhara who had called him. <br/>“Could you not sleep?” she asked, with a touch of concern. <br/>“No, I’m fine,” Harry said quickly. <br/>It was a kneejerk reaction to being asked about his feelings. Harry didn’t want to relive unpleasant, frightening things, and unintentionally got testy when asked about them. His friends were used to it…but, he saw a slight catch of dismay in Adhara’s eyes, and was sorry that he had put it there.<br/>“Er, you’re up rather early,” Harry said conversationally.<br/>“Oh, yes, Adhara is such a helpful girl! She helps me pay Samson every morning!” Asterodia crowed.<br/>“You…pay him in lunch?” Harry asked.<br/>The two witches laughed.<br/>“Lubberkins are payed in milk. Its all they eat, really. But, Samson’s mother was a witch, so he’s a bit different from the rest. He should be coming round any minute,” Adhara said, and on cue came a knock on the kitchen door.<br/>Asterodia opened the door, and Samson was revealed on the other side, smiling kindly.<br/>“Morning all!” he boomed. “How was your first night in the Aits, Mr. Potter?”<br/>“I slept all right,” Harry lied. Adhara handed Samson his hamper.<br/>“What sort of work is it that you do, Samson, around the Aits?” Harry asked.<br/>“I could probably show you, better than tell you. Get in the boat, and you come along too, Karriewhitchit,” Samson said, waving his free hand urgingly.<br/>“Yes!” Adhara said.<br/>“I’ll ready the boat,” Samson said, and went outdoors. <br/>Adhara began opening cabinets, as if looking for something. Her black hair swayed against a cashmere shawl which was dangling from her shoulders, draped lazily and threatening to fall below the impression of her body beneath her nightgown. Harry’s eyes stung from the smell of smoky-sweet water flowers.<br/>“Sit,” she told him, and Harry did so before he’d thought twice about it. <br/>Adhara set a mortar and pestle, and cauldron on the table.<br/>“What are you making, dear?” Asterodia asked, and placed the cauldron on the stove.<br/>“Just a Draught of Serenity. I thought it might help…Uncle Alpheus told me that Samson saved you from knuckers, Harry. These sorts of things affect us more deeply than we realize, at first. I got lost once, when I was a little girl,” Adhara said.<br/>“In the marshes?” he asked.<br/>Adhara nodded knowingly, and began grinding a moonstone with  the mortar and pestle. She applied the shimmering powder to the boiling water, along with yarrow, St. John’s wort, and valerian. Potions class was such an ordeal for Harry, he had never watched someone applying a potion closely, but did so now with admiration of Adhara’s gentle, slender hands.<br/>She dipped a wooden cup into the water and said, <br/>“At least you won’t have any more nightmares, after this.”<br/>Harry drank it. He tasted the earthy herbs, and they had an aromatic freshness. This was much different to Harry’s and his classmates questionable Potions class concoctions, or Madam Pomfreys chalky restoratives. Harry tasted peace itself. When he had drained the cup, with it no longer obstructing his view he faced a smiling, pleased Adhara, wrapping her shawl around her.<br/>“You ready, Karriewhitchit?” Samson boomed joyfully.<br/>“Let’s go,” Adhara said, and she and Harry walked down the bluff, to the river. <br/>They joined Samson in the boat, and the Lubberkin began to row upstream on the dawn lit waters. The sun was rising in earnest now, a golden disc shedding a rosy glow on the sky, and its own reflection on the water. <br/>“I want you to have Number 12, Harry,” Adhara said.<br/>“Adhara, I didn’t come here to take anything from you, or try to convince you of anything. I want you to…” Harry said, but he couldn’t decide what it was he wanted for her. To be happy? To have the Black fortune as recompense for never seeing her father again? He wanted peace for her, as she had given him peace in a cup.<br/>“The Order of the Phoenix was important enough for my father to die for. It should continue, and it should have a safe haven,” she said.<br/>“Are you sure about this?” Harry asked.<br/>“Quite. I read the newspaper and…its getting worse, out there, isn’t it?” she said.<br/>Harry wanted to say the opposite, but he couldn’t lie to her eyes, which were once again catching the light around them, reflecting the dawn on the water in their depths.<br/>“Yes,” Harry said. “There are Dementors, and maybe Inferi…werewolves. They’ve joined Voldemort.”<br/>At the sound of that name, Samson took on a fierce, seething look, and growled low in his broad, muscular chest. Adhara patted his forearm, even as his arms flexed while he rowed.<br/>“Its all right, Samson. No one will hurt Nerine, so long as you’re around,” Adhara said.<br/>“Or you, either, Karriewhitchit. Achernar is safe. I’m your champion, that’s my job,” he said, with a stubborn pride and protectiveness whose earnest nature reminded Harry of Hagrid.<br/>“Champion?” he asked.<br/>Adhara smiled proudly, and said, “Each Ait has a Lubberkin sworn to protect it, our champion. Every year, at the Games, all 43 Ait champions fight in a sort of tournament. Oh, you should see it! Anyway, Samson is the strongest!”<br/>“Ah, Karriewhitchit, you know I’m just a half-breed,” Samson muttered.<br/>“So? I am too, aren’t I?” Adhara said. Harry looked at her with piqued curiosity, and Adhara explained,<br/>“My mother was a Muggle. She and Father met at a concert. Her name was Julie,” she said.<br/>“I had no idea. So, she was my godmother? I had a godmother?” Harry asked.<br/>“Yes,” Adhara said. “But, you see…she was targeted by Death Eaters. Kidnapped…tortured…to send a message to my father…that blood traitors wouldn’t be tolerated.”<br/>Adhara stared off at the water, at where the sirens were splashing and sinuously  diving in and out of the gilded panes of the reflected sun. <br/>“I understand,” he said honestly.<br/>“They want to punish us for not being like them. Not pure enough, so they say there’s no place for us. Well, that doesn’t stand on the Aits. You can have a good home here, anybody, no matter what kind of wizard you are. Don’t even have to be a wizard, at all. Its not like out there…” Samson said.<br/>“So, this is a sanctuary,” Harry said.<br/>Adhara turned back to her companions, and said, “My parents, they lived here for a time. They were happy. Father thought Mother would be safe. But, she was tricked into returning to Muggle London. She was made to believe that her grandmother, her only family, was ill…but, when she got to the flat, a woman called Bellatrix LeStrange was waiting. Do you know who she is?”<br/>Harry didn’t want to think of that monster…nor did he want to be the one to tell Adhara that the witch who had murdered her mother had killed her father, too. Now, Harry thought grimly, Bellatrix’s glee at Sirius’s death was explained. She had finally managed to punish her blood traitor cousin for the crime of marrying a Muggle. <br/>“Here we are, Karriewhitchit,” said Samson tenderly, and pulled the boat up to the shore. He got out, and dragged it, and joined a group of other men, or Lubberkins, rather, as burly as himself. They waved him over hurriedly, and he instructed Adhara, “just leave the hamper under that tree, my darlin’!”<br/>He ran, and grasped a large chain being held by the other Lubberkins like a rope in tug of war. One of them counted down and then waved for the true work to begin, and they pulled as one. A Harry watched as a large boulder was unearthed from the river. Samson picked it up, and slammed it to the verdant ground. The other Lubberkins broke the pieces into smaller ones.<br/>“They’re making soil, to reinforce the islands,” Adhara said.<br/>Harry was truly fascinated. Adhara followed Samson’s instructions, and left the hamper under the tree.<br/>“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, talking about my parents,” Adhara said.<br/>“No, not at all. I understand, now, why Sirius fell out with his family…and why he didn’t tell me about you, and your mum. It must have crushed him, even more than Azkaban…he went through so much,” Harry said.<br/>“He wanted us to be together, the three of us. I’ll show you his letters. But, I think he also wanted to protect us. If you knew about me, and I knew more about you…Harry, they can use even our memories against us,” Adhara said passionately.<br/>“I know. Trust me, I understand,” Harry said, and now he did dare to touch her, to put a brotherly hand on her shoulder. Adhara looked at his hand, and smiled.<br/>“I’m glad I didn’t overwhelm you,” she said. “Get in the boat-I’ll show you the river.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry explores the river, meets Nerine, and makes plans to explore a new location in the Wizarding World</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adhara rowed her boat confidently, with a content and genuine, soft Mona Lisa smile playing about her lips. Harry derived a sense of calm from watching the oar glide through the opalescent shimmering water, and hearing the sleek splash it made. He sensed that they both wanted to talk, and didn’t know where or how to begin. As it stood, being Sirius’s daughter, Adhara was his only family, but they were only just meeting. It was quite a weighty circumstance, although he felt a certain relief after she told him of her history. Here was someone he wouldn’t have to feel awkward around when they talked of going home for holidays, or the personages of ‘Mum’ and ‘Dad’ with a familiarity Harry would never feel. <br/>Starting conversations was not Harry’s strong suit. No tactics he was familiar or comfortable with would work here: Quidditch, facets of school life, the antics of the Weasleys. The silence on the distance of the water, the line that held together the layered horizon between sky and water, made Hogwarts and the Burrow feel far away…but the wide water between islands, and the glimpses of the islands themselves poking out of curtains of mist, the cries and calls of unseen creatures that sounded periodically, made Harry feel an ebullient anticipation he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Coming to the Wizarding World had felt like an adventure, at first ,when he was 11, and that is how the Aits felt. <br/>“Look!” Adhara said, and pointed at a small little spit of land with a few thin, wind-bent trees. Harry heard the beating of wings, and watched as two magnificent birds flew from the trees’ boughs: their feathers were iridescent, like an oil slick, as if they had been embroidered with the colorful glass of a kaleidoscope. Color and light winked brilliantly on the birds’ feathers as they flew away, and reflected the brilliant orange sun which they were flying towards.<br/>In his stomach, Harry felt the swooping feeling of true awe.<br/>“What are those birds called?” he asked.<br/>“Hercinias,” Adhara said. “we have phoenixes, firebirds, and avalerians, too.”<br/>“Its like a nature sanctuary, for magical creatures,” Harry said.<br/>“Yes. The Aits are meant to be safe. But, I’m afraid that conviction has rather doubled back on itself in the case of my Uncle Alpheus. He’s sticking his head in the sand!” Adhara said.<br/>“Don’t worry. It took a lot of convincing to get people on the mainland to believe that Voldemort was back, too. But…its looking pretty undeniable, now,” Harry said, skimming his hand in the water. “Do you think he would even let you give up Number 12, Alpheus?”<br/>“I’ll simply put my foot down. I try to do so sparingly,” Adhara said cheekily.<br/>Harry smiled. “But, not too often, I’m guessing?” he quipped.<br/>“Wouldn’t want to put my foot down, and end up on the wrong foot,” she said, with an adorably ironic awareness that she was making a bad pun. Harry loved the twinkle in her eye as she did so, and laughed.<br/>“Achernar is sort of a horseshoe curve. There’s the other side, see?” Adhara said, and pointed towards land.<br/>“I’ll help you row,” Harry said, and took the other oar. <br/>He could tell that Adhara was very comfortable on the water, she rowed with the same easy grace and joy with which she had brewed the Draught of Serenity. They reached land, but without Samson’s strength it was necessary for both Harry and Adhara to jump out of the boat, into the knee-high, lapping water, and pull the boat in. They both laughed in delight at the splash, and their eyes met. Adhara nervously tucked her black hair behind one ear. When they reached the sandy shore, Adhara tied her shawl around her waist, and the wet end of her nightgown into a knot. Harry thought seldom of his Muggle upbringing, but she did call to mind a long-buried image of a play his class had been taken to see when he was 9, a “Peter Pan” with the typical trappings: Peter played by a chipper young woman with hair like Joan of Arc, clapping to restore Tinkerbell to life, et al. Adhara looked like Wendy amongst the lost girls, a Victorian belle gone savage on a romp with pirates. The sand clung to her ankles, her feet left a track in the sand. <br/>“Would you like to meet Nerine, Samson’s wife?” Adhara said.<br/>“Sure,” Harry said. <br/>He felt up for anything. He liked the Aits, and Adhara’s presence was calming. They walked, and reached a cottage with a thatched roof overlooking the water. Adhara ran swiftly for the door, and knocked with merry familiarity.<br/>“All right, all right, Polly! I’m coming!” called a merry female voice. <br/>A tall, ethereally beautiful woman with coiling strawberry blonde hair, wearing a silky blue dress, opened the door, and smiled warmly at Adhara.<br/>“Pollywog! You rose with the sun, didn’t you?” Nerine cooed.<br/>“I helped Asterodia get Samson’s tea ready,” Adhara announced.<br/>“Oh, did you? Taking care of the Champ isn’t easy, you know-where would I be without your help? That means I owe you and your friend breakfast, don’t I?” Nerine said, chipper. <br/>“This is my godbrother, Harry Potter,” Adhara said. <br/>Nerine’s eyebrows raised in mild interest. Harry braced himself for the familiar refrain, of ‘That Harry Potter?!’ ‘The Boy Who Lived?’ or, ‘Is it really him? Does he have the scar?’<br/>“Is that right?” Nerine said. “Have you come to visit?”<br/>Harry was surprised that she didn’t seem to recognize his name, or to be interested in who he was. That was a rare experience for him, in the Wizarding World.<br/>“Adhara’s showing me the Aits,” he confirmed.<br/>“Well, there are a lot of them, so that would be quite a voyage! But, Achernar is the loveliest. Trust me, I was born in these waters, and swam as I pleased up and down the river…until I met Sammy. Some people are worth staying on land for,” Nerine said. “Come in! I’ll just put my silk away, and make us some breakfast.”<br/>“Oh, no, Nerine, I can’t, I’m dripping!” Adhara said, and began ringing out her nightgown.<br/>“Don’t worry! You should see all the muck Sammy drags in, its fine,” Nerine said, and waved them in. <br/>On the walls were framed squares of silk painted with flowers or paisleys, and the sitting room was dominated by a large wooden machine on which were stretched long silk threads. <br/>“This is my loom,” Nerine said proudly. “Sammy built it.”<br/>Harry made sure to nod, impressed. She was clearly the sort of woman who had been so deeply in love for so long that they didn’t bother trying to break themselves of the habit of working their beloved’s name into any and every circumstance. From what Harry had seen of Samson, the feeling was mutual.<br/>“Nerine makes silk, and she dyes and paints it herself, turns it into clothes and accessories, or just big tapestries like the one on the wall. Muggles in London really go for them,” Adhara said.<br/>“Well, I keep a great deal of it myself, I must confess. Us Silkies can’t resist water, silk, or tall dark and handsome men!” Nerine said. <br/>She and Adhara laughed, and then Nerine stood behind her loom and began working a large, heavy looking wooden pedal. The gears and levers began to pull the silk taut, and Nerine took on a look of deep concentration. When she was done, she wiped her brow, sighed, and took the panel of fresh, undyed white silk off the loom and lovingly folded it.<br/>“There. I think it wants to be green. What do  you think, Pollywog?” Nerine asked.<br/>“Green is nice,” Adhara said.<br/>Nerine nodded, and she said, “I’ve been playing around with that waterproofing Potion, putting it in the dye. Why don’t you grab the Prussian blue dress off the line, after you have a swim, while I make breakfast?”<br/>“All right. Harry, would you like a swim?” Adhara asked.<br/>“I’d love one,” Harry said. “But, Nerine, are you sure you wouldn’t like any help with breakfast? I used to cook every morning for my cousin and my aunt and uncle.”<br/>“No, no, this is your holiday! Go, swim!” Nerine said cheerfully.<br/>Adhara looked at Harry, and said, “Race?” <br/>He nodded eagerly, and said, “On your mark, get set…”<br/>“Go!” Adhara yelled, and took off. <br/>They ran towards the water, and it crashed into their knees. They waded in, and paddled out until the sandy land beneath their feet gave way, and the water came up to their chins. The water was warm, and flowed in lapping waves. Adhara showed Harry how to go still enough to let the waves sweep him up and carry him towards the sand. They laughed, and floated, the sun growing higher and brighter, the sky turning to the blue of a new day.<br/>Harry kept feeling as if there was something he should say…but the words wouldn’t come. He knew that he and Adhara would talk about Sirius, that neither of them would be able to prevent it, and that they both wanted it. It would happen, there was no need to rush.<br/>“I should go get that dress Nerine mentioned, breakfast is sure to be ready soon,” Adhara said, and let the waves properly carry her to the shore.<br/>She stood against the blue sky and water streamed from her dark hair, and against the filmy, wet nightgown which clung to her body. Harry’s stomach tightened as he looked at her, and looked away. <br/>Harry met Adhara in the cottage, in the small kitchen furnished with neat but simple wooden table and chairs, painted porcelain canisters on the counter, and glass jars of preserved fruit and herbs. Adhara’s hair was still wet, but the blue silk dress was dry. She helped Nerine to set the plates, of pancakes topped with fresh cream and blueberries, and toast with  apple butter redolent with the smell of spicy cinnamon. Harry buttered the raspberry lemon scones, and poured everyone lavender and bergamot breakfast tea. Mrs. Weasley couldn’t have done any better, Harry judged. <br/>He, Adhara, and Nerine sat down to eat. The pancakes were fluffy, the cream was faintly sweet and all but melted in Harry’s mouth, and the berries were as fresh as berries at the height of summer can be. The scones were sweet and tart, and as moist as buttermilk biscuits at the center. The tea had a soothing, earthy quality. Harry felt calm, and happy, content in Nerine’s kitchen.<br/>“This dress is heavenly, Nerine! Do you think you have enough silks to sell?” Adhara said.<br/>“I do, Pollywog! Do you and Harry fancy a trip to London? I sell to a few Diagon Alley robemakers, too,” Nerine added, as if sensing that Harry would prefer to stick to the Wizarding quarters of London.<br/>“Yes, of course! Samson would never forgive me if I didn’t look out for you, and let you go into the city alone,” Adhara said.<br/>“Pollywog takes her duties seriously, doesn’t she?” Nerine said. “Between you and the Champ, I couldn’t feel safer! How do you fancy a stop at Fortune and Grayson’s for more of this tea?”<br/>“What’s Fortune and Grayson’s?” Harry asked. “I’ve never seen that in Diagon Alley.”<br/>“Well, that’s because its in Diurn Alley,” Adhara said. “You know, with Luxor, and all the tailors, and the Assembly Hall.”<br/>Harry was thoroughly confused. “No, I’ve only been down Diagon Alley, to shop for my school things.”<br/>“Fontaine and Grayson’s is a sort of emporium. They sell all sorts of fine teas, and imported things, candies and such. Luxor is the big department store, and there are a lot of tailors that make robes for wizards and witches-the rather more fancy ones. And, the Assembly Hall is where balls are held. You’ve never been to one?” Nerine asked.<br/>“Er, once, at school. I’m not much of a dancer,” Harry said. <br/>Adhara smiled. “That’s all right. Wizards’ balls are terribly pretentious,” she said.<br/>Harry smiled. “Are you sure Samson won’t be concerned if you leave Achernar?”<br/>“Oh, he knows I can’t sit still. Well, you two wash up these dishes, I’m going to wrap my silks,” Nerine said.<br/>Harry was happy, looking forward to exploring a new branch of the Wizarding World, with Nerine and Adhara, whom he liked very much, already.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nerine, Adhara, and Harry set sail, and find an unexpected surprise; Adhara stands up for Nerine in a tough situation, and Harry offers help</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Thanksgiving!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, are we taking the Floo Network, or Apparating? Brooms?” Harry asked.<br/>“No, no, just a boat. If you stay in the Aits a while, you’ll get used to sailing just about everywhere. When we go to London, we dock at the Erlden Marina,” <br/>“Erlden?” Harry asked. <br/>He was no expert on London, having never gone there until his first trip to King’s Cross, but he got the feeling that Nerine was talking about yet another corner of the Wizarding World to which he had never been. <br/>“Yes-its an old Wizarding neighborhood in London, lots of old houses, some nice parks, has a rather villagey feel to it, you know,” Adhara said. “Every now and then, I go visiting with Asterodia there. Its as you can imagine-lots of sitting ramrod straight, speaking only when I’m spoken to, and eating fruitcake.”<br/>Harry couldn’t help it, he laughed, reminded strongly of being babysat by Mrs. Figg. “I’ve got a neighbor like that. Just add cats to the equation, and you’ve got it.”<br/>“Oh, if you don’t like cats, this ends here,” Adhara said. “I have a gray cat called Pretty.”<br/>“I like cats just fine…when there’s a reasonable number of them. One at a time, preferably. Did…Sirius ever mention Crookshanks, in his letter? They really got on, the two of them. Or, Crookshanks and Snuffles, I guess,” Harry said.<br/>“Oh, yes, the clever cat who figured out he was an Animagi! Your friend, Hermione’s cat! Yes, Father said she’s quite clever. Father said that really clever witches have really clever familiars, like that-as if they’re sharing a bit of each other’s essence,” Adhara said. <br/>“Is Pretty back up at River’s End?” Harry asked.<br/>“Oh, she’s somewhere around. She wanders about Achernar, and comes home. She could take on fiver Knuckers at once, I’m not worried about her,” Adhara said.<br/>Harry felt too glad for words that there was so much that he could say to Adhara, and that he did not have to explain. Sirius had informed her of much in his letters. <br/>Harry and Adhara helped Nerine tidy up, and then Nerine clapped her hands to signify readiness, and said, “Right then, you lot! I’ll bring the boat around.”<br/>Harry and Adhara came outside, and stood at the shore. The sun had risen in earnest, and the sky was a blue unique to clear, promising summer mornings. The water was yet bluer, not just a reflection but magnified to a deeper, richer hue. The sound of the water was gentle, it lapped and murmured. The water glittered with scattered sunshine like carelessly strewn diamonds. <br/>“Harry,” Adhara said, and he turned at once to her, and looked into her gray eyes. They reminded him of the loch at Hogwarts, the way they turned the gray Highlands sky into smoldering silver. She continued, “I’m glad you came here.”<br/>“I’m glad I’m here,” Harry said earnestly.<br/>“Are you…all right?” she asked, tentatively, not from fear of upsetting him, but from the weight of the subject. <br/>Harry sighed. What use was there to hide? Adhara was the only person in the world who could miss Sirius as much as he, and feel anything approaching intimate understanding of what it felt like not to have the energy to get out of bed, for words in the newspaper to cross and have no meaning, for the memory of whole days to boil together into an unmemorable mass, for sleep to feel like the only thing he was capable of, until one day, it felt like he was lying to himself that sleeping and doing nothing made him feel any better. The epiphany, like an angel appearing and bearing lilies, that even if it felt so difficult that he wanted to cry at the thought of taking a shower, finding some clean clothes to wear, and making a sandwich when Aunt Petunia was out at the salon or a department store, that he should push himself to calmly and naturally do those things until they felt right again. That was life; he must do his best to not only accept the condition of being alive, but maybe enjoy it-as Sirius had enjoyed flying Buckbeack to freedom, and Christmas, and walking with Harry, in the guise of ‘Snuffles’, to the train station to leave for school. When Sirius was in a dark mood, it seeped like a fatal mold throughout Number 12, but when he was enjoying life, it was also contagious, and his whole face was revitalized with life, health, and youth. It was the memory of this that got Harry out of bed.<br/>He wished he was better with words. With speaking, anyway-he did all right with letters. But, he couldn’t write a letter to Adhara’s frank, caring eyes.<br/>“Are you okay, Adhara?” Harry asked.<br/>She smiled. Her smile was deeper in one corner of her mouth than the other. “When I look at the birds take flight against the sky at sunrise or sunset, or when Asterodia, Sam, or Nerine, or Pretty makes me smile, I feel like I can be all right, and one day, I most solidly will be. I feel hope. I hope you feel hope, at times, in your own way.”<br/>Harry felt the warmth he had when he was 12, and life was slipping from him like sleep pouring in, until he was brought back to life by the phoenix’s song.<br/>“I do. I feel hope. Even if Voldemort isn’t done, even if the war is just beginning…I guess knowing that I have to play some part in it, wanting to do that, makes me sure I have to keep going for something,” Harry said.<br/>Adhara smiled with satisfaction, as if she knew he would say that. The wind picked up, and her black hair, dry now after their swim, and her blue silk dress languidly wuthered. Harry smelled the water before them, and the fresh scent of mud, and lingering dew upon the grass. It was the smell of Adhara’s life, the smell of summer in the Aits.<br/>“All aboard!” Nerine cried happily. She was waving at them as she guided a dinghy towards them. <br/>“Nerine! Are you sure that will fit us, and your silks?” Adhara sked. <br/>“They’re all in my bag, here, it’ll be fine!” Nerine said.<br/>Adhara looked at Harry, and smiled, as if saying with bemused resignation, ‘Well, that’s how she is, and shrugged one shoulder.<br/>“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Harry said, smiling, and the two of them boarded the dinghy.</p>
<p>Harry had noticed on his journey up the Thames from Surrey with Dumbledore that the waters of the secret, magical creature choked veins of the river seemed wider than he thought a river would be, like the open waters of an ocean. As Nerine cavalierly steered the dinghy with the wind, over rolling waves, Harry was in awe at the expanse of the water, the width of it, and the way the sky was folded neatly to meet it, the horizon comprised of the never-ending water and sky. As they sailed, he watched Adhara’s delight in the wind on her face, and he watched her dark hair wave in the wind skipping on the waves. Harry liked the wind and motion, too, but he didn’t feel quite as secure as Nerine and Adhara seemed to be. The water was to them as the air was to Harry when he was on his Firebolt broom.<br/>As they sailed, water creatures came into view. Undines, sirens, water sprites, and kelpies swam by their small vessel, and Nerine and Adhara greeted the sight of them with awe, which Harry shared. They watched as two large ,white birds, with wide, majestic wings dove into the water, breaking its surface, and leaving a foamy ripple in their wake. Harry watched, but they didn’t come back up.<br/>“Oh…” Adhara gasped, watching the sight with deep emotion engraved on her face.<br/>“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, feeling very attuned to her, and her feelings.  He didn’t know what they had just seen, but he knew by how Adhara felt that they had just witnessed something meaningful.<br/>“Avalerians! Oh, quick, Nerine, do you see the eggs?” Adhara said.<br/>She grabbed a brass spyglass, and peered around the waves. “There! Look, Pollywog, the waves are going to bring them to us! We just have to be ready!”<br/>“I see! I’ll go get them!” Adhara said eagerly, and just as Harry had done to respond to Jenny Greenteeth’s cries, she leapt out of the water.<br/>“Pollywog!” Nerine cried. <br/>Harry didn’t feel the compunction to stop Adhara or warn her. He watched her swim, she was strong, if he had to intervene, he would. He saw what she was swimming towards: two large eggs bobbing on the water. She gingerly gathered them into her arms, awkwardly swimming with one arm. Harry held his arms out for the eggs, and accepted them, while Nerine helped Adhara in the boat. The eggs felt quite warm, warm with life.<br/>Adhara was once again streaming, soaking wet, and though the blue silk itself remained dry, her hair was sleekly plastered flat with water, and her skin was beaded with drops of clinging river water. Harry smiled with admiration at her, and said bemusedly,<br/>“Well, there must be something special in these eggs, for you to dive after them like that! Or, do you just love to swim that much?”<br/>She smiled, and said, “Both! But, yes, those are quite special. They’re avalerian eggs. The two birds you saw were its parents. When an avalerian pair is about to hatch its children, the parent pair dive into the ocean.”<br/>Harry was shocked. The birds they had watched dive were never to emerge. He thought of their sleek bodies diving swiftly, the white feathers disappearing leaving only foam, bubbles, ripples, and a sort of shadow. Nerine was cradling the eggs, trying to insulate them from the bobbing of the dinghy upon the waters, in a nest of her silks. <br/>“What are we going to do with these?” Harry asked.<br/>“Take them to the Erlden Market! There are lots of creature sellers there, and they’re knowledgeable and really care about the animals. These little alerianets belong in a nice aviary, owned by someone who knows how to care for magical birds,” Nerine said.<br/>“What if we took them to Hogwarts? My friend, Hagrid, knows a lot about magical creatures. In fact, he’s the Care of Magical Creatures Professor there,” Harry said. As soon as he put the offer forward, he wondered if Hagrid would show quite as much interest in a creature that wasn’t fanged, venomous, or firebreathing as he had Norbert the dragon, and the blast-ended skrewts. But, he was sure that any creature who needed a home was welcome with Hagrid, especially an orphaned creature.<br/>“Oh! Wonderful! Change of plans, then,” Nerine said. “then, we’ll just need to get a few things from the creature seller to keep the eggs alive! There’s a charm we can buy to keep the egg warm, I know, it’s the one you use with basilisks, cockatrices, and salamanders…we’ll look for that.”<br/>“You can buy Charms? How?” Harry said.<br/>“Well, not everyone goes to Hogwarts; some people don’t have much of a formal magical education, but they can still do magic just fine. So, there’s a huge market for books, magazines, subscription services that send a spell a month, and spellsheets, with spells of a certain category on them. You’ll see all of that, at the Erlden Market,” Adhara said. “I’m sure we’ll find that eggwarming charm!”<br/>“I’m sure, Pollywog,” Nerine said, with a warm smile. <br/>She seemed happy to see Adhara so invested in the alerianets’ fate, and Harry got the feeling that she, and Sam and Asterodia, had seen Adhara through the worst days after the news of Sirius’s death, her own version of the sodden melancholia Harry had felt at the Dursleys’. Now, her friend seemed gratified and excited to see Adhara embracing life, once more, happily. Harry looked back at the alerianet eggs, glad for their appearance upon the waves, sad for the alerian parents who had not, and would not, appear again upon the surface. He’d heard an old song on the radio that described, ‘pools of sorrow, and waves of joy’. That felt about right. </p>
<p>They reached London, and Nerine navigated the dinghy into the marina, alongside wizard boats that Harry could not help but pay homage to with an audible, “Wow!” <br/>Some were done up like pirate ships in miniature, or painted with psychedelic flowers like hippie buses, or were floating 1950s cars with impressive, brightly painted steel bodies. Sails were painted with murals or talismanic symbols Harry vaguely remembered from Trelawney’s class like the Eye of Horus, or the Hand of Fatima. He turned this way and that, feasting his eyes.<br/>“You’re smiling as wide as your mouth will allow! Do you think you’d fancy living in a boat year round, day in day out? Some wizards do, you know! And they stop in the Aits and Erlden Market when they need anything,” Adhara said.<br/>“I think Sirius would have liked that,” Harry said, as they followed Nerine, who was hugging the alerianet eggs with the possessiveness of her firstborn. Harry had taken the burden of her bag of silk wares. <br/>“Oh, I think he and Mother considered it! It was rather their dream, for after the war, he told me,” Adhara said. “Mother loved the water! She was an American, from California…but, she came to live with her grandmother, in London, when she was around my age. Anyway, she loved the Pacific Ocean, she never forgot it.”<br/>“Are her parents still around, in California?” Harry asked.<br/>“I think so, yes, but from what I can tell they weren’t very warm people, and they had quite a nasty divorce. Neither party was really in a fit state to care for Mother, so she got shipped off. Father reckoned she preferred it that way,” Adhara said. <br/>Harry was fascinated by these new details about Sirius’s life, and the existence of Julie Black, Adhara’s mother. <br/>They followed Nerine to a crowded marketplace. The Erlden Market had a dreamlike, unwieldy, carnival ground atmosphere. Wizards and wizards, wearing their archaic clothing and robes and cloaks browsed at stalls that sold magical objects, potions, magical creatures, and the spellsheets that Adhara had mentioned. Nerine admirable shielded the alerianets amongst the bustle.<br/>“How far are we from Diurn Alley?” Harry asked Adhara.<br/>“Its on the other side of Erlden. But, don’t worry, we’ll get there. A silk delivery is usually just a chance to get into the city, see things, see people. We could go to Merlin Park, for a bit, and feed the ducks; maybe there will be a photographer there taking pictures, and charging a few sickles for them. We can get little paper bags of pumpkin seeds, and drink strawberry or plum juice…we can go into a café and get saloop. It’s a day in Erlden! Anything could happen,” Adhara said.<br/>Harry smiled. It was nice to know that there would be a lot to see, and time to explore. He looked over when he heard Nerine’s voice, as she said, <br/>“Well, no, but I will have plenty, after I sell these silks! Whatever happened to credit?”<br/>“Oh, brother,” Adhara muttered, then went to Nerine’s side.<br/>“What seems to be the problem?” she asked Nerine and the seller, who answered,<br/>“I’m not in the business of charity! I need to turn a profit for my merchandise, don’t I? I need money for this Charm, and all she’s got is a pretty face!”<br/>“We were sailing from Achernar, when we found the eggs. It was unexpected. We need to keep them alive till we can get them to Hogwarts Castle. You know, in Scotland?” Adhara said.<br/>“Oh, that Hogwarts! The one in Scotland! Thanks for clearing that up, sweetie. I’d gotten it mixed up with Balmoral, thought the Queen lived there,” the man said sardonically, with scorn clear in his tone, and in his face. He cackled wetly, in a mockery of Adhara’s girlish voice, “‘Hogwarts Castle, in Scotland!’” as if her voice were the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. <br/>“Plenty of people could learn how to do that spell just fine on their own,” Harry said heatedly, disgusted at the man’s self importance. He was just another Snape, lording what little advantage he had over people who knew just a bit less than him. There was no glory in bullying or belittling people who don’t know the things one knows. <br/>“Yeah, well, plenty of people can’t, that’s why I’ve got a steady trade. And if you want the spell, pay up for it, you runty little mutt,” the seller spat at Harry.<br/>“If you want your money, you’ll have to be much more civil, in future! Or cater to those who expect so little of the world, they don’t mind the likes of you!” Adhara proclaimed heatedly, and began to walk away, urging Harry and Nerine to follow.<br/>“That bigot!” Nerine fumed. “He only gave us a hard time because he can tell I’m non-human, and you can say otherwise, you two, I wouldn’t expect a wizard to understand, but-”<br/>“I wouldn’t say otherwise. I told you about my friend, Hagrid…well, he’s a non-human, and so was another one of my professors. And they both get treated horribly. Especially under Fudge and Umbridge,” Harry said. He saw Adhara regarding him with respect, and relief.<br/>“Umbridge,” Nerine snarled. “Don’t talk to me about that cow!”<br/>Harry was surprised. Since Nerine hadn’t seemed to know that he was the so-called Boy Who Lived, Harry wasn’t sure how invested in wizards’ affairs she was; but she seemed to have a personal dislike of Umbridge.<br/>“She was our defense against the dark arts professor last year,” Harry said. “she was foul.”</p>
<p>“Thanks to her, my Sammy isn’t considered even half a wizard, anymore! His mum was a witch, but they changed the rules. Now, only your father’s side counts, and you know his father was a Lubberkin. Well, Lubberkins are creatures, not nonhumans, like me. You’re still treated like dung, being nonhuman, but its different, to be classed as a creature. Think, how it feels,  to be called a creature? To have a heart, a soul, and a voice, and a home, and a name, and be legally called an animal?” Nerine said impassionedly. “if we weren’t in the Aits, I’d be terrified that some madman would have a mind to hunt him for sport!”<br/>Harry was sure that she wasn’t exaggerating. He saw, now, why Alpheus Gray didn’t want to be involved in the cares of the other wizards of Britain-the Aits seemed like a refuge for those who otherwise wouldn’t have one. The old man was a tough customer, but Harry was sure that he had to be. He filed a mental not to show Gray the utmost respect when next they discussed the fate of 12 Grimmauld Place.<br/>They continued through the market, and indeed found another Charm seller, a woman in a colorful pink silk sari which Nerine complimented warmly. She sold them the eggwarming charm with no problem, and painted a henna blessing on the alerianet eggs. Harry was glad to discover that he had some loose change in his pocket, and payed her the 5 galleons for the charm.<br/>“You saved the day!” Nerine said warmly.<br/>“Yes, Harry, you’re a lifesaver,” Adhara said.<br/>Harry didn’t know what to do, generally, when he was thanked for ‘saving the day’, because such thanks usually came in the aftermath of some near death incident too big to talk about, something to catch his breath and move on from. But, this was different. The women were simply glad that he, and the second charmseller, had been kind, where someone else had been needlessly cruel. Harry knew what that kind of gratitude felt like, many times over.<br/>He meant it with all his heart when he said, “Sure. Any time.”<br/>“Thank Circe the carriages are free!” Nerine said. She approached a horse-drawn carriage, like the ones in Central Park in New York City.<br/>“Come on! The carriage will take us across Merlin Park, and we’ll be in Diurn Alley soon,” Adhara said. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry and Adhara explore London, and come up with a plan to help the avalerians.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The story of the cherry blossoms in Merlin Park was inspired by the true story of the Japanese government gifting the American one with the cherry trees of Washington D.C., as a sign of amity between the two nations.</p><p> Those of you who've read my other Harry/OFC AU "The Alchemists' Daughter" and my Harry/Hermione "I Was Thinking of Growing Old With You" have encountered Percival College before, and its mentioned here, too.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry thoroughly enjoyed the horse-drawn carriage drive through the lanes of Merlin Park, shaded by slender young oak trees. Ponds glistened to the side of each lane, sky blue and bordered by lithe azalea and myrtle trees. Ducks glided on the surface, and happy wizard families fed those that came to the water’s edge. On other ponds, parents and children paddled paddleboats. Harry smiled at the sight, wondering if his parents would have taken him to Merlin Park…or if Sirius would have taken him and Adhara, if he’d been able to raise his daughter and godson as a family…He didn’t feel as bottomlessly sad at the thought of Sirius, as lacy shadows and carved sunshine fell on his face through the oaks, and the sound of childrens’ laughter drifted from the ponds. Rather, he felt wistful, at the juxtaposition of the beautiful day, and his familiar grief. When he turned to look at Adhara, she seemed to understand. Her loch gray eyes were redolent with understanding, calm, steady, and warm.<br/>
“You should see the park in the spring! When everything is in bloom. The cherry blossoms are unlike any others, the scent of them is intoxicating. People come from all round to see them, and have picnics under them. I think they were a gift from the Japanese Minister of Magic to the British one, in the Meiji era, to signify that Japan was now open to trade and diplomacy,” Adhara said.<br/>
“That’s fascinating, Polly! You’re so clever,” Nerine said, and seemed to perk up. She had been quiet and subdued since the bigoted charmseller.<br/>
“Mrs. Randalls told me. She knows a bit about everything! I would have been lost without her,” Adhara said.<br/>
“Who’s Mrs. Randalls?” Harry asked.<br/>
“My governess! I had a private education,” Adhara said, almost apologetically, as if a bit embarrassed of it.<br/>
“Of course, she’s married now, and a governess generally isn’t a married lady. But, she prepared Pollywog for  her tests, and all! She’s awaiting her letter from Percival any day now,” Nerine crowed proudly, as if Adhara were her own daughter.<br/>
“Tests? Percival?” Harry said.  He hadn’t felt his head spinning with so much information about the Wizarding World since he left the Dursleys with Hagrid.<br/>
“Yes, I took my O.W.Ls privately, after studying with Mrs. Randalls, and I…well, I hope this doesn’t sound presumptuous for a private student, but I applied to Percival College…the Wizard’s university, at Oxford,” Adhara said.<br/>
Harry was a bit in awe. For one, he hadn’t known that there was a university for wizards. For another, he had been raised in the Muggle world, after all, and for all the new information he was being hailstormed with, he certainly recognized the name of one of Britain’s most prestigious universities.<br/>
He laughed with incredulity, and Adhara looked downcast, then stoic. “Well, I don’t have any real hope that my application will even be opened! The students of alumni, naturally, get a first look, as it were-” she said, and Harry cottoned on that she thought he was laughing at her.<br/>
“What? No! No, I was just surprised that you can study magic at uni,” Harry said.<br/>
She relaxed, and smiled bemusedly. She went from frost to sunshine quickly, with just a hint of hurricane in her eyes, Harry observed. She had certainly inherited that from Sirius, he thought.<br/>
“You’ve never heard of Percival? Its all I’ve wanted since I was quite small, to study Magical Medicine there!” Adhara said.<br/>
“We take O.W.L.s, at Hogwarts, I took mine last year, but, no, they never said anything about university. Just going straight into a career,” Harry said.<br/>
“Well, that makes sense. Hogwarts has always been a straight shot to the Ministry,” Nerine said.<br/>
“Is that a bad thing?” Harry asked.<br/>
“No, just a status quo, you could say,” Nerine said.<br/>
“Well, Percival is so selective, anyway. I daresay that a private student, or a student from a small wizarding school, has about only half a chance, compared to someone from Hogwarts,” Adhara said.<br/>
“Smaller schools? I thought Hogwarts was the only Wizarding school in Britain,” Harry said.<br/>
Nerine laughed out loud. Adhara looked at her with slight perturbation. Harry got the feeling that Nerine was rather impulsive, generally.<br/>
“It’s the biggest, and its always been called the best,” Adhara clarified. “But there are small schools that you wouldn’t, perhaps, call a proper school at all, just a witch or wizard who has opened their house to give lessons, and students’ parents pay a fee, and the students may board there, in some cases. There are too many of those to count, and they may have one student, or 100. Then, there are the proper schools: Gateshead, Brocklehurst, Thornfield, Roe Head, Wildfell, and Ferndean. Along with Hogwarts, they’re called the Seven Academies. Or, barring all that, one may study with a tutor, or a governess. Or…with one’s parents.”<br/>
Harry could  hear in Adhara’s voice the way he always felt when he said the word ‘parents’: slightly awkward, as if talking about a theory or formula which he had never tried or known in detail.<br/>
“I’m gobsmacked. There’s so much I don’t know, about wizards,” Harry said.<br/>
“But, Harry…you are a wizard!” Adhara said, with incredulous laughter.<br/>
Harry said, “I know-there’s the Catch 22.”<br/>
“The…what?” Adhara said. “Catch 22?”<br/>
“Er, yeah. It’s a saying. It means…you know…that there’s a catch, in something,” Harry said.<br/>
“Where does that come from?” Adhara asked.<br/>
She was clearly a burningly curious person, but Harry felt as if he was grasping for his glasses in the dark.<br/>
“This Muggle book, about a pilot in a Muggle war. He wants to get out of the war, but the only way to do it is this clause in the Army’s rules, Catch 22: it says you can only get out of fighting if you’re insane. He has to fake being insane-but, the ironic bit is that he might be the only sane one there,” Nerine said<br/>
Harry was impressed. “How’s he the only sane one?” he asked.<br/>
“Oh, I see-you’d have to be crazy, to want to keep on fighting,”Adhara said.<br/>
“I wouldn’t call that crazy,” Harry said.<br/>
“Oh?” Adhara asked.<br/>
“Sure. Someone’s got to step up, and try to do something, haven’t they? And you can’t just back out,” Harry said. “You’ve got to finish a thing.”<br/>
“Well, yes…but, when we studied the Goblin Wars, in History of Magic lessons, Mrs. Randalls always said that war is the last resort when negotiations have broken down. Wouldn’t it be better not to fight, at all? To find some way to work matters out?” Adhara said.<br/>
“Oh, so you think Voldemort can be reasoned with? He doesn’t want to talk,” Harry said.<br/>
“Of course not! Naturally, that is a different sort of war, between one man and the world. But, in general, when nations, tribes, or races disagree, it’s a sort of desperate measure, isn’t it? One side or the other is convinced that they must fight, to stake a claim, to protect themselves, to survive. If all could be satisfied by an agreement of some sort, then there would be no fighting, no war, no loss,” Adhara said passionately.<br/>
Harry couldn’t argue with that. Nerine chimed in, her eyes ablaze with light, “Yes! You know, if only the Ministry saw it that way! I tell you, they’re only going to make Goblins, werecreatures, Giants and Lubberkins take Voldemort’s side, shoving people’s noses in the dirt, like this. If they could be reasonable, the Creatures would be cooperative, maybe even content!”<br/>
“Yeah, but that’s not likely in the immediate future, is it?” Harry said.<br/>
Adhara looked thoughtful. “I don’t know…Scrimgoeur seems a good sort of fellow, deep down. He pardoned my father…so he must be the sort of man who looks at the evidence, and makes the reasonable decision. But, he used to be an Auror, and I fear that may mean he prioritizes law and order,” she said.<br/>
Nerine nodded fervently.<br/>
“And…that would be bad, d’you think?” Harry asked.<br/>
Adhara sighed, gathering her thoughts. “Not bad, but, if you’re used to seeing a group of people as suspects, perpetrators, or likely criminal, then you’re going to be thinking of them as something to control. Not people, with needs and desires like you or I, who need your protection and help, to live good lives. You may lean too hard on them, thinking of them as a liability, and not look closely enough into who they really are, and what they really need. Look at Father: he was judged by his family, their history and their connection to Voldemort, and locked away, forever…”<br/>
Before Harry thought of it, he put his hand on her shoulder, and said, “No, no, not forever. At the end, at least…at least Sirius got a chance to be free. He traveled, he saw the sun…him and Buckbeak. He did have some good times, I promise.”<br/>
Adhara smiled gratefully, and said, “Thank you, Harry.”<br/>
“But, I do see what I mean. Our friend, mine and Sirius’s:  his name is Hagrid; do you know him?” Harry asked.<br/>
“Know of him, of course, yes, from Father’s letters,” Adhara said.<br/>
“He was expelled from Hogwarts because of something Voldemort did, not him; and he was thrown in Azkaban for something when I was 12, something, again, that Voldemort had done,” Harry said. “You’re right: the Ministry needs to reach out to Creatures and Nonhumans, undo some of that damage, do something to convince them that wizards are on their side.”<br/>
He had never spoken like this with his schoolfriends, or the Weasley family. He had been reading all sorts of things in the Daily Prophet, but of course the Dursleys were about as interested in wizard politics as they were wizard everything else: not at all, pointedly and decisively. All these thoughts, and behind them, stirred emotions, came up and came out when he talked to Adhara, who seemed so wise and could speak so well. Harry hoped that he didn’t sound like a fool. He felt curiously excited, perhaps even too much so. Talking about Sirius, he noticed, had cleared up some of his sadness, as well.<br/>
“Harry, you know, you could do a lot of good, thinking that way,” Adhara said.<br/>
Harry smirked a bit, incredulous again. “How d’you mean?”<br/>
“Oh, I don’t quite know how, but I think if you feel that way, you can find a way to do good with it,” Adhara said.<br/>
Harry smiled. He volunteered, “I think I’d like to be an Auror. It all depends on how I did on my O.W.L.s. Potions kills me, every time.”<br/>
Adhara laughed. “I love Potions! That’s why I’m going for medicine. Its heavy on Potions. But, there are also ways to channel your magic to heal others, I’d like to do that.”<br/>
“Wow! Adhara…talking to you is like learning a hundred new things at once. You’d love my best friend, Hermione: she’s the cleverest witch in our year,” Harry said. “I expect she’ll be Head Girl, like my mum was.”<br/>
“Do you think you’ll be Head Boy?” Adhara asked.<br/>
“Nah-I’ve gotten in too much trouble,” Harry said. Adhara and Nerine laughed.<br/>
The carriage took them away from the park, down a block of Victorian townhouses behind a wrought iron gate, on a cobblestone lane. Harry reflected on all the different sides of Adhara he had seen: she was helpful to others, cared deeply for magical creatures and nonhumans, confident, playful, not afraid to call out someone who was being a bigot, and able to converse knowledgeably on a wide range of subjects, to the point that Harry felt a bit callow  in her wake.<br/>
He felt that time had been stolen from them. She was meant to be in his life, and had not been able to be, because of Voldemort, the way he, Pettigrew, and the Ministry at the time of Sirius’s conviction had torn their family apart. This must be where her conviction to try and do good, to avoid conflict with negotiation before lives were torn apart, came from. Harry felt respect for her blossom in his heart.<br/>
“Do you mind if we call on Mrs. Randalls?” Adhara asked.<br/>
“Yes. I mean, no. No, I don’t mind, and yes, I’d like to,” Harry said. Adhara smiled bemusedly, teasing him with the glinting light in her eyes.<br/>
The driverless carriage, charmed to know its way, took them down a side street to a cul-de-sac. They were headed to the last house on the lane, which, from what Harry could see, boasted a large, shady garden at the back, a green end to this tributary of the neighborhood.<br/>
“She can help us charm these eggs! There’s not much she can’t do,” Nerine said.<br/>
The party departed the carriage, Nerine cradling the alerianets, Harry carrying her silks, once again, and with his other hand helping Adhara out of the carriage. When their hands touched, Harry felt a frisson pass through him, an unfamiliar, jolting feeing that travelled from his branded hands up and down his spine, and his stomach. He felt overwhelmed. He could barely watch Adhara tuck her long, black hair behind her ear, and he let go quickly when her feet touched the cobblestones and she no longer needed his aid. He had felt only a rumor of this when he first glimpsed Cho at 13 years old. This was stronger, nearly violent, and more intense for being unbidden. This was a wave, and Harry was capsized.<br/>
This feeling was followed by guilt. This was Sirius’s daughter, his godsister. His only living family. He was meant to feel about her the protective and affectionate way he did about Hermione, treat her the way the Weasley brothers did Ginny…not this. He’d muddled something. What did he know about family?<br/>
While Harry was ruminating, Nerine knocked on the door. It was answered by a humbly pretty, mild looking young woman with brown hair pulled away from her face, wearing a high-collared, traditional witch’s dress in a sensible navy blue. Her face lit up in a smile at the sight of Adhara and Nerine.<br/>
“Adhara! Nerine! What a surprise! I had no idea you’d be in London, come in, come in!” she urged them. “And…you are?” she added, glancing at Harry.<br/>
Once again, Harry was surprised to be met with someone who didn’t make a big fuss, or even seem to know who he was.<br/>
“Harry Potter,” he said, extending his hand to shake Mrs. Randalls’s.<br/>
“Oh! Well! How very good of you to call. My sincere condolences,” she said tactfully.<br/>
Harry felt a bit bombarded by even an allusion to Sirius’s death from anyone besides Dumbledore or Adhara, but Mrs. Randalls seemed well meaning.<br/>
“Thank you,” he said, and they walked through the wallpapered entrance hall into Mrs. Randalls’ neatly decorated parlor.<br/>
“Tea? Coffee?” she asked, as all were seated on the Victorian furniture.<br/>
She made no mention of pumpkin juice. Harry was starting to feel a bit bumpkinish: were some of the things he had taken for wizarding culture at large Hogwartsian affectations? He tried not to overthink it, and said, “Tea, thanks.”<br/>
“Tea,” Adhara and Nerine mimicked, and Mrs. Randalls replied,<br/>
“Wonderful! I just found the most delightful lavender and bergamot blend at Fontaine and Graysons. Were you on your way, there?”<br/>
“We’re seeing how the day unfolds. We’ve been a bit diverted, you see, by these foundlings,” Nerine said, and unspooled the story of the avalerians and the charmseller, and the plan to entrust them to the care of Hagrid.<br/>
“I’m sure Dumbledore would be happy to take them back to Hogwarts with him. And, he’s got a pet phoenix,” Harry said, the last as proof that the headmaster could handle the care of a magical bird.<br/>
“Phoenixes eat frankincense. They’re dessert birds. Avalerians, on the other hand, are sea birds: they eat fish,” Mrs. Randalls said. She was looking thoughtfully at the silk-swaddled eggs. “I don’t recommend this Hogwarts scheme. They need somewhere temperate and comfortable. The Highlands are too damp….so are the Aits, I’m afraid. Well, I recommend a house out in the country, southwest, somewhere they can learn to fly! You may even want to build a dovecote, for them.”<br/>
“Er…I haven’t got a place in the country,” Harry said.<br/>
“Well, they need one,” Mrs. Randalls said decisively, and Harry was reminded strongly of Minerva McGonagall.<br/>
Harry began to think. Strangers were usually welcome at the Burrow, and Harry was certain that he always was, too. What would the Weasleys think of him arriving with his godsister and two avalerian eggs?<br/>
“I think I know a place, but I’ll have to write and ask, to be sure,” Harry said.<br/>
“Go on, then. And, in the meantime, let’s see that warming charm,” Mrs. Randalls said. Nerine promptly handed it to her, and after perusing it, the former governess said, “Hmm…well, its not complicated, but who knows? It could be illegal in a year’s time.”<br/>
“Why’s that?” Harry asked.<br/>
“Because, you can make a dark creature with it, if you so chose, and Scrimgoeur doesn’t seem to be messing about when it comes to cracking down on dark sorcery. To make a basilisk or a cockatrice, deadly snakes, a dark wizard would charm a hen’s egg, and keep it on just the sort of fire we’re going to build. So, we’ll need an elixir of molten amber. I have a bit of amber in the potions cabinet. Lucky, that! Come with me, Adhara, we’ll prepare it,” Mrs. Randalls said briskly, and Adhara followed her.<br/>
Harry sat down at a small desk in the corner and took up a quill, inkwell, and fragrant parchment that smelled like almond blossoms, and wrote,<br/>
“Dear Ron (and Hermione, if you are there by now, too),<br/>
How’s everything going? Things were the same as usual, at the Dursleys, until Dumbledore actually came round. I wasn’t sure he would. We went to a set of wizards’ islands in the Thames River, called the Aits. The waters there are full of foul creatures, and we were attacked by a sea serpent called a Knucker. We would have been done for if not for a sort of half-giant called Samson, who knocked it out cold. My Parseltongue didn’t work on it. Anyway, Samson led us to a house called River’s End. Some of Sirius’s relatives, the Gray family, live there, and so does his daughter, Adhara. Sirius was married to an American Muggle called Julie. She was murdered by Bellatrix LeStrange, just as he was. Their daughter is my godsister, and I think you would both like her: she’s clever, tough, sweet, and fun to be around.<br/>
The thing is, we were on a sail and we found these eggs. They’re avalerians, and they need somewhere to hatch. Mrs. Randalls, Adhara’s governess, say they need open country, and something called a dovecote. Do you mind if I bring them round to the Burrow?<br/>
I know this all sounds mad, and I can’t wait to explain it all face to face,<br/>
Have a good rest of summer,<br/>
Harry”<br/>
He hadn’t written a letter in weeks, and felt a sense of satisfaction that came with finishing one. Then, he realized that Hedwig was at River’s End, and could not deliver it.<br/>
“I haven’t got an owl,” Harry said.<br/>
“Mrs. Randalls doesn’t keep one. Go to the post office. You can’t miss it-walk up the street, and take a left,” Nerine said.<br/>
She made it sound so  easy, Harry couldn’t help but present that he was up to the challenge, and readily agreed.<br/>
“I’ll tell Adhara where you’ve gone,” Nerine said, with a teasing glint in her eye that Harry wasn’t in the mood to acknowledge. He wasn’t ready to, or it touched too near his guilty thoughts, and the wave he had felt crash into him at Adhara’s touch.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry hears surprising things about Godric Gryffindor and Sirius</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry followed Nerine’s directions, and came upon a tall brick tower being circled by several birds of different sorts: ravens, colorful parrots, and even gray pigeons. They flew in and out of the small bird doors of the tower’s cupola, and Harry realized that the tower was a huge aviary-what else, he figured, would a wizard’s post office be?<br/>Harry walked in. The front of the facility was rather like Gringott’s bank, the gleaming floor and high ceiling that announced a major city’s installment of an essential place of business, a touch of metropolitan grandiosity. <br/>A black man with kind eyes and dreadlocks accepted the Knuts and Sickles for Harry’s postage stamp, and in a calm American accent asked, “Would you like to pick your own bird? The owls are asleep, but we’ve got ravens and carrier pigeons.”<br/>“Erm, I usually use my own owl. She wakes up around five, though, and she’s in the Aits,” Harry said.<br/>The man nodded conversationally, and asked, “Oh, are you on a vacation?”<br/>“Sort of,” Harry said, and added, “visiting my godsister.” </p>
<p>It felt odd on his tongue; he’d listened to the Dursleys talk about visiting Marge and Vernon’s other relatives, but now Harry was the one having a visit with a relative, his only relative: his godfather’s daughter. He felt a rumor of wholeness, unfamiliar and joyful. He wondered if the postman could see how unfamiliar this feeing was for him, or if he looked and sounded like a normal person speaking of family. </p>
<p>“Family’s important,” the handsome, kind eyed American man agreed sagely, and said, “I’ll use a raven-they fly fast, and they never forget a face. Have a nice vacation!”<br/>Harry entrusted him with the letter to the Weasleys, and walked back to Mrs. Randalls’s house, feeling happier than he had in months. </p>
<p>“Harry, look!” Adhara said, as he walked in, and she took his hand and led him to the parlor, pointing at the alerianet eggs, which were roasting on logs in the lit fireplace.<br/>“You’ve charmed them!” He said, impressed.<br/>“Yes, they’re being kept warm. They’re absorbing the fire, so they’ll still be warm when we transplant them to your friends’ house. Are they amenable?” Adhara asked.<br/>“I think so, yeah, but…its not really that sort of a country house. More of a cottage. But, a really nice place, and they’re friends of Sirius’s, the Weasleys. Well, they were. Actually, I think they’re sort of relatives of yours’ right?” Harry said.<br/>“Yes. They were at Number 12 for Christmas last year. Arthur Weasley, he was attacked by Death Eaters on duty at the Ministry. That’s why Father changed his mind,” Adhara said sadly. “He didn’t know what else may be coming, after that, and didn’t want me around the Order.”<br/>“Changed his mind…Sirius was going to have you over for Christmas? Before Mr. Weasley was attacked?” Harry said. </p>
<p>He could have met his godsister months before? Spent Christmas with his godfather and godsister? Once again, Voldemort had stolen his family from him, and time with them. Adhara gave him an apologetic look, as if she was sorry that she had not come. Harry remembered how distracted Sirius had seemed around that time…he must have been feeling torn between wanting to see Adhara and have her and Harry both for the holidays, and knowing that the danger was gathering and ruminating on the hard choice to keep her in the Aits. Harry wished he’d known…but, he remembered himself then: avoiding Sirius, Remus, Hermione and the Weasleys, convinced Voldemort was somehow infiltrating and using him for dark purposes, and that he had to run away to protect his loved ones. He would have done, if Phineas Nigellus of all people hadn’t stopped him.</p>
<p>He looked into Adhara’s eyes, and dug deep for the right words. How Luna’s, Hagrid’s, Nearly Headless Nick’s, and Dumbledore’s words had all gotten him through the days after Sirius’s death. He wanted to give her the right words.</p>
<p>“Sirius made the right call. It was dangerous, then. I wish we could have all been together, but…there was a lot going on,” Harry said. </p>
<p>Adhara looked grateful, and though her eyes were full of emotion, she nodded decidedly. </p>
<p>“Yes. I just wish…” she said, but didn’t seem to have the words herself to sum up how different she wished the world was. But, Harry understood. <br/>They both looked at the alerianets, safe and warm, after their rescue from the open waters where their parents had disappeared, and not emerged. <br/>Mrs. Randalls looked at them softly, as did Nerine. Harry would have rankled if he thought it was out of pity. But, it was out of something else, altogether, that he was mystified by. Adhara seemed to pick up on it, too, the way others looked at them, and something caught fire in her eyes, and then retreated into something like amazement. Harry loved watching the light play in her eyes, the way there was nothing more pleasant at the end of the spring term than to sit by the lake and watch the sun dance on the lapping gray waves. <br/>“Harry should see something of Erlden. Do you know its history?” Mrs. Randalls asked.<br/>“No,” he answered.<br/>“Erl-, means elf. Den-, means home. Erlden, Home of the Elves. This was a wild land, much like the Aits still are, an island surrounded by misty river marshes, and inhabited by various species of elves and goblins. Wizards, led by Godric Gryffindor-” Mrs. Randalls said, and before Harry could stop himself said,<br/>“The founder of Hogwarts, and Gryffindor House! I’m a Gryffindor, so are my best friends, and my friend’s Ron’s parents, and Sirius, and my parents, they were, too! And Dumbledore!” harry said enthusiastically.</p>
<p>Adhara smiled affectionately. She seemed to regard Hogwarts wistfully, as if in her heart of hearts, she wished that she could have gone. Harry imagined, what if she had? Surely a girl brave enough to dive into open water to rescue the alerianets would have been sorted Gryffindor…they would have been in the same house. He imagined her curled up on the couch in the common room, reading a book by the fire, its light caught in her like the brilliant veins of fiery light in an opal…and what if they had gone to the Yule Ball together in his fourth year…?</p>
<p>“Oh, indeed? Well, then perhaps it will interest you to know that in the Goblin War of 1099, Gryffindor led the sacking of the area which became Erlden. His followers drained the marshes, changed the landscape as their needs suited, and wizards settled the land,” Mrs. Randalls said bluntly. </p>
<p>Nerine looked enrapt at Mrs. Randalls. “This is all stolen land,” she said. “stolen from my people.” </p>
<p>“Why? Why…did that happen?” Harry said, horrified. He’d thought of Godric Gryffindor as a dashing, noble, Richard the Lionheart-esque figure. He’d been proud to learn that the Sword of Gryffindor had come to him when he was in need in the Chamber of Secrets because he was a true Gryffindor. </p>
<p>He had never thought of just why a wizard possessed a sword in the first place. The same reason anyone would: for war. </p>
<p>“It was war. Goblins and wizards waged war for centuries, both sides had their losses and retaliated with acts of aggression. That’s why war is a fallacy: no one wins,” Adhara said. “and, both were driven not only by their resentment of each other, they were motivated by fear of the Muggles that hunted them. People in fear succumb easily to hatred, and commit violent acts.”</p>
<p>“You’ve thought a lot about this,” Mrs. Randalls said, approvingly, looking at her pupil with respect.</p>
<p>“I…don’t want war. There can be no war, without people dying, and many things being lost,” Adhara said.</p>
<p>Mrs. Randalls walked over to her, and put a motherly, loving hand on her shoulder, and took Adhara in her arms in a loving hug, stroking her black hair. Harry felt a ghost of it in his own hands, as if he, too, was touching that rich, dark silky hair, that reminded Harry of the softness of the night sky when twilight had finally faded, true night began, the canvas for the brightening stars to properly shine, as the hour grew later. Many days, he’d waited for night, to be his cover as he snuck round the castle, to find the answer to the questions that had burned beneath his skin throughout the day. Night, to Harry, had always been empowering, and symbolized relief.<br/>He waited tensely to see if Adhara would begin crying, but she and Mrs. Randalls parted and Adhara smiled gratefully.<br/>“Come to the garden with me, Harry. I need some air,” Adhara said.</p>
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